To Begin Again
by timetohavefun
Summary: Prussia has been suffering under the whims of a twisted germany, who was never the same after the second world war. This is the tale of the recreation of Prussia, and the return of Fritz. BTW, This story has shounen ai at the moment, which may become yaoi later. I'm warning you now.
1. Prologue: An Introduction

Prologue: An Introduction

The room was a mess. Gilbert wondered when it had begun to become that way. The clothes scattered 'round the floor, the sheets strewn liberally near the bed, holes in the wall, where the plaster used to be, cracks, breaks, stains and blood. When had his life been reduced to this? Was it That War or was it before that? Perhaps his strength had ended (in his own mind) when Friedrich had died. So long ago but still so painful: so horribly prominent in his mind. Fritz had been so much a part of him, and gilbert was unsure if, when he lost everything else, he lost what made him "Fritz's Gilbert".

West had made those holes, he'd used rods swung at Gilbert's head, thrown glass at him, and used his head (Gilbert's head) as a battering ram. The blood and stains were Gilbert's as well, gifts from his beloved little brother, who seemed to take pleasure in hurting him in as many perverted ways as possible. What a fucking mess.

The only one who seemed to understand Gilbert's plight was Arthur, and the Brit had his own fair share of problems. Not only was his boss abusive, but also his brothers seemed not to care. Arthur was doing all the paperwork, all the dealings with the boss, all the help needed wherever and whenever. Sometimes, Gilbert feared Arthur would breakdown, and take his whole nation with him. All the same, every February 25th, Arthur would arrive at the local pub, spend the night making sure Gilbert didn't give himself alcohol poisoning, and keep him company as they talked of the 'good old days'. In return, Gilbert would trek down to Arthur's local pub every Fourth of July, make sure that the tolls of the year and the memories of the day didn't lead Arthur to suicide (and apologize silently in his own way for helping make Arthur this mess).

Gilbert wasn't a child; he wasn't young, even by a nation's reckoning, and he knew that he was living on Ludwig's benevolence at the moment. The fact that that gave Lud the right to do whatever he wanted to Gilbert had not slipped Gilbert's notice either. He needed to have his land back, to have his people back, or one way or another, he'd be dead within the decade.

Perhaps the taint of That War had never left Ludwig. That war had destroyed something fundamental to both of them, after all. Who would've thought that he would (at some point in his life) risk himself to protect The Prissy Aristocrat, would willingly accept Ivan's "charity" in order to survive, would have actually _**thanked **_Ivan for his help (and mean it). Love, hate, friendship, betrayal, and family- all things he'd had in his life, sometimes he wished he'd experienced none of them.

What was it Arthur had said, after America, after his self had returned? "Someday, Gil, you'll fall too and I'll be there, and I'll smile at your fall. You'll finally understand that your whole life was made a lie in that moment, and every feeling dulls in comparison to that constant ache, that sharp, cruel, stabbing ache."

Arthur had been right, but he hadn't smiled at my fall. He didn't so much as twitch his lips upwards; instead I saw tears glistening in his eyes for me. I had put my heart into raising Ludwig, I gave him all I had, I gave him all I could be. I gave him my future, and he destroyed me in the blink of an eye. No hesitation, no regrets.

Gilbert was now a fixture at the grocers, at the local malls and with the local tradesmen. Where Ludwig and his government had lost touch with the people, Gilbert had not. The tradesmen (and their families) had adopted Gilbert, giving him help and medication as and when he needed it. They had realized quite early that Gilbert could not defend himself against whoever was hurting him, and were unsure what to do, since Gilbert had told them pointedly that going to the police or government would only get them into trouble. They did what little they could by letting Gilbert stay, letting him work part time with them, let him tutor their children. As a result, the children were doing excellently in school.

That is where the story really begins. Well, that and one incident in which Ludwig sewed Gilbert's mouth shut with string and proceeded to beat him for screaming. The incident led Gilbert to seek aid from his grocer friend, whose son he tutored. This son happened to have a friend who was studying medicine. That friend met Gilbert and KNEW him.

He also knew a boy named Friedrich who missed Gilbert's presence in this life.


	2. Chapter 1: The incident

Chapter 1: The Incident

It had been a normal day, all the way until Ludwig returned home, in a bad mood from work. Gilbert stayed silent all the way until Ludwig blamed Fritz for bad weather and said he would make "Gilbird roast" for dinner. Then Gilbert lost his temper, he raised his voice to Ludwig, trying to yell sense into the boy. Needless to say, it didn't work. It made Ludwig angrier. He beat Gilbert with his belt until Gilbert could no longer move, then he left the room to get thread and needle, muttering about teaching Gilbert his place.

The moment the needle pressed into the top of gilbert's lip, he screamed, he fought, all to no avail as Ludwig's larger, stronger form was pinning him to the ground, eyes glinting with madness. Gilbert was afraid, his lips were being unrelentingly strung together with thick string, pulled tight. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't scream, all he could do was lie there, struggling silently, taking what he was given. Tears pricked at Gilbert's eyes for the first time since the wall had fallen. There was nothing for it, he'd have to run when Ludwig was asleep. He'd treat Ludwig like a dangerous enemy and play it safe.

He trembled slightly as Ludwig rose from him, one hand reached up to touch his sealed lips. The hand came back bloody. Then Ludwig spoke, "You have been very bad, Gilbert, I'm afraid I must punish you." There was a smile on Ludwig's face as he said this, and a shiver ran up Gilbert's spine. This reminded him of Ivan, when they were at war and he was captured and tortured in front of Fritz. This would, however, be far more painful. Betrayed love and faith always was.

The 'Punishment' went on until Gilbert lost consciousness, it may have continued after, but Gilbert didn't know. It was impossible to distinguish one set of pain from the others, at least not now. Breath caught in his chest as he tried to move, agony flooded his body and mind, leaving no room for anything else. Somehow, a single thought penetrated the bloody haze, "LIVE" he had to live, had to get out of here. Shakily, Gilbert stood, dragging himself up the basement stairs, pausing in the hall, making sure he made no sound as he slipped out of the door.

The click as it shut sounded final to gilbert, who was carrying all he owned, an iron cross, a Templar's cross, a gold ring on a chain, a few clothes, pictures and one portrait of Friedrich. His meager belongings fit in a small bag, which was slung around his shoulder.

Stumbling, Gilbert made his way to the Butcher shop, slumping against the door, he thumped at it frantically, using the last of his energy. As the door opened, he lost consciousness, and he let the blackness take him.

The butcher, Lyle, was shocked to see the state of gilbert. Sure, he'd come there covered in injuries before, but this was just monstrous. Who would sew someone's mouth shut and beat them like this? Thankful that his wife had gone to bed, Lyle carried gilbert to the couch, taking in the bag around Gilbert's shoulder, he sighed.

Waking up his son, he told him about Gilbert. Pieter, his son, was studying medicine, and had mentioned a genius friend who was always ready to help. He had said something about the boy, Hans, Searching for someone. Hearing what had happened, Pieter immediately called Hans over. Hans said that he would come over in the morning, at seven. So they waited.

Morning came, but the mood in the house was tense. Nobody made any move to prepare the shop or go to study. All eyes in the house were fixed on the unmoving figure lying on the couch. Karla (the butcher's wife) had red eyes from crying, and the two men were pacing.

Hans finally arrived at five-to-seven, promptly, he laid out his instruments and walked into the hall. The sight that met his eyes nearly made him sick. Gilbert lay still, far too still, with tight, thick stitches binding his lips. That explained the silence. He couldn't moan, couldn't whimper or scream. It was unnatural.

"Well Hans?" Pieter asked, "Can you help him?"

Hans' eyes hardened, "Yes. Get me my surgical kit, would you?"

Pieter nodded, moving with practiced ease towards said kit, the movement only slightly marred by the jerkiness of his hands. Hans moved with practiced ease that seemed out of place in his youthful body. His eyes never left his patient as he moved purposefully and silently through every stitch, every cut and every bruise. He seemed to be cataloging them for future reference. When he had finished, his eyes fell on the bag that Gilbert had brought with him, and he opened it, looking through the contents. His eyes stopped at the portrait, and his lips quirked into a half-smile. He lifted the portrait out, placing it near Gilbert, so it faced him, so it would be the first thing he saw waking up. His eyes then fell on the ring, and they filled with tears,

"Damn, Gil. You never forget, do you?" He whispered to Gilbert, placing the ring around Gilbert's neck reverently, "Fritz will kill you if you die before he sees you."

Hans stroked Gilbert's hair gently, hoping he would wake. The gentle gesture wasn't missed by Lyle and his family, who tried to question him about it, instead of answering, Hans told them to wait till Gilbert woke up, after which he'd tell them all they wanted to know. In detail.

The next two days, Gilbert stayed asleep, but color slowly returned to his skin and his lips were slowly knitting back together, it gave all of them hope, seeing his breathing even out, to see him slip into a natural sleep from a coma. Hans' clenched fists and teeth when he saw the old scars were proof that he cared for Gilbert (and quite a lot if the number of swears were any indication, Lyle didn't think he'd even heard a few of those before).

Four days after Hans' first visit, Gilbert began to stir. His eyes fluttered open, taking in the portrait that had been placed in front of him. He raised a hand to his neck, feeling the ring against his heart, tears welled in his eyes, but he quickly blinked them away. He really was acting sissy.

Pieter was the first to see Gilbert awake, he shouted for Hans and his family and they came to see what was wrong. Gilbert looked at them, a gentle smile on his face. There was pain there, but some sense of relief. Hans stepped forward,

"Gilbert."

Gilbert's eyes widened, "Doctor? HANS?!"

Hans smiled warmly, "This was one hell of a mess, dear friend."

Gilbert nodded mutely before rising and capturing Hans in a tight embrace.

"Gil- wheeze- can't- wheeze- Breathe."

"Kesesese"

"You should be resting, Gilbert" Hans' face sobered from joy to seriousness.

"I've never seen you that still. Ever, and I've patched you up after a hell of a lot."

"I know. I thought I was dead this time."

"Don't joke!"

"No Joke. There's very little other than Germany's whims keeping me alive right now."

Hans flinched, "We're here, Gil. We'll fix it"

Gilbert smiled bitterly, "You and what army?"

"The same one from Silesia."

Gilbert looked shocked and he wasn't the only one

"Someone explain, please." Said Lyle

So Gilbert explained about nations in general, about Prussia and Germany in particular, about the world they saw, the relationships, the trials, the pains, the joys. By the end, Lyle was wide eyed, Pieter was crying, as was his mother.

"Now Hans, You explain how you came into possession of the army we used in Silesia."

Hans smiled, "Friedrich is here. The people will follow him wherever he leads, and I'm not the only one. Wilhelm, Hermann, Schwerin and Keith are here, so is Kleist for some reason."

Gilbert seemed stuck, his hand on the ring around his neck, "Fritz is here? He knows everything?"

"Yes"

"and he still wants to help me?"

"Yes, Gilbert. In fact we all know, and we all do."

This seemed to be too much for the nation, he broke into sobs, and no one had any idea what to do.

"You will war with Germany for me?"

"Yes, Prussia, we'd all do that at least."

"At least? Do you know the risks?"

"We'd all fight the world for you, just like you'd do for us."

Lyle nodded, "Count us in, and the majority of Germany, who are suffering under the government too."

Pieter nodded as well, "well, now you can teach me to fight as well!"

At this point, they all decided to drop the subject, and Gilbert was sent to rest, with the promise that Friedrich would come visit soon.


	3. Chapter 2: Oh King, My King

Chapter 2:

Two days after the long chat, gilbert was up and about (though he wasn't allowed any strenuous activity for a week) and nervous about seeing Fritz,

"Do I look alright?" He asked Pieter,

"YES, for the 1000th time, Gil, you look fine. Honestly, you're acting like a teenager on a date."

Gilbert blushed, Pieter caught on, "OH, oh Gilbert, I didn't know, really."

"It's more than that." He said fiddling with his ring, "If it had been permitted, we'd have married. He gave me the ring as a symbol of his love and faith, and I've let him down. Let everything he created fall to ruin."

Pieter hesitated, it was true, after all, that Gilbert had failed to protect Friedrich's legacy, but it wasn't his own fault, "He'll see, as we do, that it was no fault of yours. Surely."

By the time Fritz arrived, Gilbert had calmed down and was sitting on the arm of the couch, chatting with Lyle. They were discussing meat and produce, an odd conversation (it seemed to Fritz) for a former soldier. It seemed more appropriate for a housewife, whose life seemed to consist of haggling prices, quality food, and endless gossip. To see Gilbert, who had more than often seemed larger than life on the battlefield, so domesticated, twisted something inside of Fritz's heart.

They didn't seem to notice him, so he stood by the door, watching. The two sat close by, there seemed to be a casual ease to their association, a gentle understanding. Gilbert was leaning in to the man, involved deeply in their discussion of prices. Suddenly, the man said something that startled Gilbert, who gave him a dirty look, which turned into a chuckle. Then, the man's eyes turned to the door, and saw Fritz. The laughter seemed to halt, and he rose from the seat to greet him.

Fritz knew he was being rude, long years of training were telling him so, but he couldn't help himself. His eyes never left Gilbert's face, now that it was finally facing him. He took in every detail, noted every difference. The warm red eyes, once full of energy, sunken deep into his face, haunted, hurt. The once muscular body, emaciated, seemingly broken in many places, but most important, Fritz saw the mouth, the lips that had always been quirked into some kind of smirk (if only to give confidence to Fritz) lined with red, circular scars, healing slowly. There was no trace of a smile, less even of a smirk. The laugh lines were gone from his face, replaced by wariness, frown lines, and worry lines. Fritz wanted to cry. He wanted to destroy whoever had hurt Gilbert so badly, he hoped Gilbert would let him.

Gilbert, in turn, was taking in the face of his (reborn) monarch. He took in the young face (devoid of the lines of age, and the loose skin from before his death) the gentle eyes (completely unchanged) and the healthy, unhurt state of his body. It seemed that Fritz had a better father this lifetime.

Finally, sick of the silence, Gilbert spoke, "Hallo, Fritz, you look well."

Fritz nodded, "I would love to say the same, Gilbert, but we can discuss that later. First, I must know how things turned out this way."

Gilbert swallowed, "The whole story or the short version?"

Fritz shook his head; this never meant anything good, "The long version, Gilbert."

Shaking slightly, Gilbert started, "You probably studied history, right?"

"Yes, Gilbert."

"So, basically, Germany dissolved Prussia in the early days of ww2."

"Long story Gilbert!"

"There isn't really much more, I mean, come on Fritz, do I look Aryan to you?"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Hitler thought I looked like a freak of nature, a demon if you will."

Fritz flinched

"He decided that it would be better for everyone if I ceased to exist. So off I was sent to Auschwitz. Of course, trying to kill the bastard didn't help either."

Fritz snorted, "I see. You tried to kill him as well?"

"He hated my guts, Fritz!"

"Why, then, did the allied forces agree with Hitler?"

"Cause it was easier that way." Gilbert sighed,

"Cause America was more inclined to believe Germany, who decided it was best to blame me."

"No one fought it?"

"England did, but his bosses agreed with America, and every time Arthur protested, they'd take it out of his hide."

Fritz flinched; he'd had first hand experience with that sort of ruler.

"He was also head over ears in debt to America, so his voice was stifled."

"I see," said Fritz, "At least he tried."

"He's a loyal friend."

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After Gilbert had explained the fall of Prussia in detail, he waited for Fritz's judgement. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears, he was terrified that the one ruler he had loved would reject him, hate him for his stupidity. Finally, Fritz spoke,

"Gilbert, this is… a lot to process, but I want you to know, I don't believe any of this to be your fault. You did the best you could, and you have worked very hard. I am proud to have been your king."

"You're still my king Fritz."

Fritz smiled sadly, "I know, Gilbert. Still, I know there is a long way to go until we can make that official."

Gilbert nodded, this was expected. Once Fritz was ready with a timeline and plan, things would be much better. In fact, Gilbert was sure that once the plan was made, victory was absolute.

All the same, it would take time, time that Gilbert wasn't entirely sure he had. His weakening body was taking longer to heal each time he was hurt, and although he had left 'home', if Ludwig found him (and he eventually would) that would be his end. No longer a nation, no longer a power, if his heart stopped, he wasn't sure it would start again, Fritz or no Fritz.

He refrained from mentioning this to Fritz, but Lyle had no such reservations.

"That's all well and good, Herr Fritz, but how long will it take? Gilbert may die with the next hit he takes, and that's not a risk I'm willing to take."

"Die?" Gilbert had never seen Fritz's face so pale, it was almost translucent with fear.

"Gilbert, how bad are your injuries, really?" Gilbert hesitated,

"Bad. There is no way for me to quantify them on a scale of 'badness' except to say, if I were a normal human, I'd have died many times over."

Fritz looked like he wanted to cry, but there was a hard glint of determination in his eyes, one gilbert had seen before marching on Silesia,

"What is the longest you can possibly last? The most you can take?"

"Depends on how bad and regular the beatings are. If I stay here and away from Ludwig, I could last more than ten years, if I am with Ludwig, I will last, perhaps, five years, if I am lucky."

Fritz nodded, "I'll get the men together and make a plan. We can at least have an independent city-state in two years, beyond that we'd need help…"

"Try Popo- I mean Poland, get him to give my lands back, we made up while I was living at Russia's place. Then talk to Roddy, he can help too."

"Dare I ask how you changed their minds after centuries of war?"

"We lived, Fritz. We survived that bloody was together, Popo and I. I got Roddy to Switzerland, and took care of people from Poland. So we made up."

Fritz smiled wanly, this was so like gilbert, "What of Konigsberg?"

"Russia owns it, calls it Kalingrad or something… he may give it back if I ask personally."

"Hmmm. We'll think of that later. Give me a year to set everything up, can you do that?"

"Sure Fritz. I'd do anything for you."

Fritz grimaced, recalling all the times that that particular trait of Gilberts had caused injury to himself. He sincerely hoped that this time was not one of them, but a tugging in his heart told him otherwise.

"Just… be careful Gilbert, I hate it when you are hurt."

Gilbert gave him a look that was part sorrow, part love and part hope.

"Love you too, Fritz."

Blushing, Fritz departed.

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The days passed swiftly and winter came, Gilbert still helped out the local merchants as much as was needed, tutoring children, delivering goods, taking inventory, doing accounts etcetera, etcetera. Basically he kept as busy and as fit as he could, his body was slowly healing from long years of abuse (Beginning in the 1930's) and he was putting on muscle mass. He looked a lot more like he used to when Prussia still existed, but not quite as healthy.

Gilbert was a good man, the young lady in the store decided, he had a slightly careworn look about him, and he was obviously recovering from something, but he always had a smile for everyone in the store, a warm word, a quick joke, a sarcastic quip. He was a kind man too, he always watched the toddlers in the shop, he cared for them as the women gossiped away.

The young woman smiled at Gilbert as she made her way to the counter, and he grinned back at her,

"Is this all today?"

"Yeah, it's been a hard week."

Gilbert smiled noncommittally, as if he thought all weeks were hard,

"Just try and live it day-to-day, you'll feel better"

It was good advice, and she smiled thankfully. At that moment, her boss, Ludwig walked in,

"What is taking so long?" He asked in his hard voice, as if she had been dawdling or slacking,

She sighed, "There was a long line-up, sir."

She gestured at the counter, "I'm done now."

Gilbert wasn't looking at her anymore, the smile was gone from his face, and his eyes were haunted.

"Lutz."

"Gilbert." Ludwig looked straight at him,

"Why are you in a place like this?"

Gilbert bit his lip, "Please just go, you owe me that much."

"No. You will be coming with me."

Gilbert backed away from the counter, he raised his voice, something she had never heard him do, and said,

"NEIN."

The street outside seemed to freeze and the butcher looked in the window, face pale. Gilbert shook his head slightly and pulled his apron off,

"You leave me no choice do you?"

"I am Afraid not, Gilbert, but you should have known better than to run in the first place."

Gilbert sighed, "Forgive me for wanting to live, Luddy. Come on then, we should go."

That was the last time she saw Gilbert for well over two months, the next time she saw him, it was in Ludwig's house, with chains on his arms and legs, covered in his own blood.

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Lyle had a bad feeling when he woke in the morning that day, but it seemed to have no meaning as the day progressed to evening. That was when he heard Gilbert's scream, he hurried to the grocery shop and peered in through the window. He knew things were bad when he saw the man, he recognized him from a photograph Gilbert carried around. This was Ludwig. This was the man who had very nearly destroyed Gilbert. This was Germany.

The shake of Gilbert's head told him there was nothing he could do there anymore, and the fear in his eyes told him everything else. Fritz would need to hurry up, or the nation they were trying to save would be a corpse before any good could be done. They were seven months in to a twelve-month plan, but Lyle feared that Gilbert would not last those months.

The first thing Lyle did was close the shop, lost revenue be damned. Then, he called Friedrich, who was surprised to hear from him until he heard the circumstances of the call. They had agreed to radio silence unless necessary, to avoid bringing any suspicion by anyone onto their operation. This meant that, since that first time, Gilbert and Fritz had neither met not spoken even once. It had been hard on Gilbert, who had taken to writing letters to Fritz in his journal, and preparing for the day he could give them to fritz to read.

Fritz arrived the day after the phone call, his face was haggard and he had obviously not slept the night before. Accompanying Fritz was a belligerent looking man, whom Fritz introduced as 'Seydlitz'. He said he had been close to Gilbert in his last life, and missed him dearly. Lyle had simply nodded, waving the two into the living room and handing Fritz Gilbert's journal-full-of-letters. He sat quietly as the two pored over the writings and just kept watching as Fritz slumped back into the couch and Seydlitz covered his face with his hand, obviously composing himself.

They fell asleep on that couch after hours of discussion on the best way of bringing up the timeline. Little did Lyle know that over the next four months, his house would play 'base of operations' to the largest coup-d'état to date. Little did he also know that he would be meeting, in person, various nations, all during said four months.


	4. Chapter 3: Waiting for the Light

Chapter 3:

The first week had been hard. The darkness of the basement and the stench of blood, they permeated his senses so completely he felt ill. Still Ludwig had never been known for his mercy… so Gilbert was forced, kicking and screaming (all in his own mind) back into the hell he'd fled from. Soon he no longer smelt the blood, no longer minded the cold. The dark of the basement became, once more, familiar. In some sickening way, it felt like a return to normalcy. The basement had been his home for so long the first time… he felt almost at ease in the stony silence of its cold embrace.

There was a different depth to Ludwig's behaviour now. He sometimes seemed harsher than before, more punishing, heavier handed, pushing Gilbert to his breaking point more often with the sharp blows and the sadistic torture. At the same time, Ludwig was more careful with him, sometimes treating the injuries, talking to Gilbert and being gentle. It was confusing, but Gilbert was sure that sometimes, in those gentle times, he caught a glimpse of the old Ludwig. The Ludwig he'd raised, who he'd cared for, loved, taught and fought with. The Ludwig with whom he'd shared laughter and tears and dreams… then the moment would pass, and Ludwig's eyes would seem icier than ever. Sometimes Gilbert wondered if he was going mad.

The moments spent in pain were like another part of him, something that filled the emptiness within him. Gilbert was not sure why… perhaps it was because it was better to be remembered this way than forgotten altogether. He loved Ludwig, despite everything that had been done to him, and he wanted nothing more than for Ludwig to be happy, like he had been before _that _War. Still, with the aches in his body mixed with the fear of death, Gilbert felt more human than he ever had before.

He didn't know how many days he had spent in the basement, and he was sure he didn't want to know. His stomach ached from starvation, and his eyes drooped from lack of sleep. He wanted nothing more than to return to Fritz's side, but he knew that he had to be patient. Lyle would have definitely, by now, told Fritz about what happened. He may have a long wait, but he still had some hope.

That night had been easier than most, Gilbert managed to crawl onto the mattress and cover himself with the thin raggedy blanket. Shivering, he permitted his mind to wander. Back to better days, forward to when Fritz achieved his objective. He wasn't an idiot, he knew that, regardless of what Fritz wanted, the work would take time, at least a few more months. The idea of being trapped with Ludwig for all that time was not a pleasant one, but it was one he could bear, if it meant that he'd finally be free at the end. In his dreams that night, he saw Fritz in the old days, dancing in the halls of Sanssouci, complaining that he hated parties, and sneaking out with Gilbert to the gardens. Beautiful memories were all that were sustaining Gilbert now.

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It felt painful. That was the word, painful. The house seemed empty without Gilbert bustling around, as did the street and the shops. The emptiness was all encompassing, like a hole in the chest, and there was nothing anyone could do about it. Fritz was trying his best to push the plans faster and faster, but the work was slow and tedious. The people were ready to rebel, but the revolution needed to be supported and organized. The process was exhausting, and the organizers had time for little else. So rescuing Gilbert took a back seat.

Lyle sat in the storefront of his Butcher shop, waiting for news. There was nothing he could do but wait. After a few hours, his son would take over the store, and he'd go to the training grounds. He was being trained to fight. Not just to shoot and obey, but sword fighting, infiltration, destruction and little things like that. Sometimes he wondered what use a butcher like him would be in this oncoming storm, then he'd remember Gilbert's face and know that he'd be fighting regardless.

On Tuesday, a few weeks later, he met a man. The man had the bushiest eyebrows he'd ever seen, and the greenest eyes. He walked into the Butcher shop and looked straight at Lyle, he ignored all the meat, all the goods and looked straight at Lyle. It was disconcerting.

"Hello," he said, "You're Lyle aren't you?"

The voice was polite and cultured, and Lyle was sure they'd never met before,

"Yes, I am. Do I know you?"

The man laughed and shook his head, "I'm a friend of Gilbert's," he said softly,

"And the old man (turned young) told me to go find you."

Lyle's eyes widened, "Fritz sent you?"

"I don't answer to Fritz," The man seemed irritated, "He asked me, politely, to come find you."

"Umm, for what?" Lyle was confused; this man didn't seem to like Fritz very much at all, yet he claimed to be a friend of Gilbert's.

"To tell me what happened to Gil-Gil." The man smirked, "I'm not like Fritz… I'm more like Gil, you see."

Lyle nodded slowly, "Which nation, if you don't mind me asking?"

The man nodded, "England." He said quietly, "Now please tell me what happened to Gilbert."

Lyle recounted the incident as he had seen it, and the man went very pale.

"Is nothing being done to save Gilbert?" He asked in a strangled voice

"No," Lyle answered, feeling guilty,

"Can nothing be done?" The man was sounding desperate, "If Ludwig has absolute power over Gil and a bad day at work, do you know what that adds up to?"

Lyle felt ill, remembering how Gilbert's mouth had been sown shut, "I wish that we could do something…"

The man looked at Lyle, mind obviously far away, "Right." He declared,

"Get Fritz here, we'll make a quicker plan." Lyle's eyes widened,

"How do you intend to do that?"

The man smiled, "Even other than the army," he muttered softly, "there are people in England loyal to me."

Lyle called Fritz immediately, and an impromptu war cabinet was held in the back room of the butcher shop.

"How can we move men we do not have, England?" Fritz asked irritably,

"I'll provide the goddamn men, Friedrich. You just move them carefully."

"And how do you expect to move troops into a sovereign country without violating their borders?"

"Tourist visas."

"Tourist visas?"

"Tourist visas."

Fritz was wide eyed, "your people will come here as tourists?"

"Yes."

"Then they will fight for us?"

"We-ell," said the man, "Technically, they'll fight for me."

Fritz nodded, "Thank you, England."

"I'm doing this for Gil, not you."

"I know."

To Lyle, it was confusing to say the least. It was obvious that Fritz knew that England disliked him; still, they seemed to have a decent working relationship. The men seemed to skirt around whatever issue it was that had brought them to this point of mutual disregard- well it wasn't really mutual. Fritz respected England (or as Lyle called him in his own head 'Mr. bushy brows') and seemed to like him well enough, but England seemed to mistrust and/or dislike Fritz completely. As if he'd been betrayed. Lyle would have to read up on his history.

Lyle was the official companion of Mr. England-bushy-brows regardless of his own opinion in the matter- in fact he rather enjoyed it. England was a lot like Gilbert in many ways, and Lyle soon relaxed in his company. The man adored children, much as Gilbert had done, and took great pleasure in spending his free time teaching them. He spoke German perfectly and managed to teach the children German history without any biases. The only real problem was that Lyle still didn't know his name and he didn't know how to ask. When he finally did, the man laughed, "Finally," He said, "I'm Arthur Kirkland, it is a pleasure to be formally introduced to you, Lyle." Lyle had wandered out of that conversation, mildly embarrassed and rather amused.

In the meanwhile, Fritz had met with someone interesting. His sister, Wilhelmine, had been working in the German government for a good while. She had not yet been informed of Gilbert's plight, and poor Fritz got his ears yelled off when he told her. It turned out that she worked with Ludwig, as his secretary, and knew his temper better than most. In her yellings, she informed Fritz (in a very loud and pointed manner) that compared to Ludwig, their father was an angel who had done no harm to anyone. This seemed to scare Fritz quite a bit, and he began to plot ways of checking on Gilbert.

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The men from England arrived on the Friday. They brought with them an irritable Scotsman, a curious Frenchman, and an abusive Italian. From the interactions, it seemed that the Scotsman- Scotland, as Lyle soon discovered, was irritated at his vacation being interrupted. He soon fell silent as the situation was explained. The Frenchman was rather curious as well, he seemed to enjoy the scene of the two arguing Brits, but when Gilbert's situation came up, his face turned serious and he began to swear. This swearing caught the attention of both Brits, who stopped arguing to watch the (apparently) rare scene.

The Italian mentioned something about informing Spain, and then said something about a Bad Friends Trio… Lyle couldn't understand the majority of it, but he did understand that this Italian was like Gilbert- half a country. He tried to speak to the Italian about it, but he seemed unhelpfully rude. It was rather confusing. Especially when he was called a potato-bastard… all the same, any help for Gilbert was good.

The discussions on strategy all began to take place in Lyle's home, taking over his living room and kitchen. The Italian would always cook, the Frenchman often brought in desserts and the two Brits would actually do most of the work. Soon, the area was full of 'tourists' from France and Italy… in fact the Italians looked scarily like Mafia. Often, Lyle just shrugged and accepted all of it.

Eventually, a month had passed, and they had amassed a largish army. That was the day Lyle met Austria.

It was a sunny Saturday afternoon, and Arthur was sitting with the children, teaching them math and Literature. He also seemed to be playing games with the younger ones. That was when Lyle saw the man. He was just watching Arthur, a look of absolute understanding on his face as Arthur played with the kids. He finally stepped forward when he saw that the game was done.

"Arthur… it has been a long time."

"Roderich." Arthur blinked. "Why are you here?"

"Friedrich sent me a message," Roderich shook his head, "he didn't tell me much… where's Gil?"

Arthur looked at his shoes, "Damn, I forgot to tell you, didn't I?"

Roderich looked confused, and Arthur filled him in about the situation in Germany.

The swearing that followed that revelation was most informative as to Roderich's vocabulary. He immediately began to write out a declaration stating Austria's relinquishment of certain lands, which were historically theirs, to the nation of Prussia.

"I'll contact Poland immediately. He'll have to make a similar declaration to mine after all." Roderich was determined to get it done that instant, but Arthur seemed to want to wait.

"We don't want Ludwig to find out about our plans yet, and Popo can't keep a secret… please just wait."

"I get it, but Arthur" Roderich had tears in his eyes. "He is my Brother."

Arthur nodded, "I know."

"Is this my fault?"

"How could it possibly be?"

"I never checked up on him… even after all he did for me."

"None of us did. None of us saw the need." Arthur seemed upset, "He always insisted he was fine."

Roderich shook his head, "That's Gil for you."

Lyle butted in, "Excuse me," He said, "but who are you?"

Roderich smiled sadly, "Roderich Edelstein, Austria."

Lyle's eyes widened, this was the Austria that Fritz didn't seem to like at all, but he seemed nice enough… and like he cared about Gilbert a lot.

"It's good to meet you," He said, still in shock.

"So, Friedrich hasn't yet infected you with his hatred?" Austria smiled, "Nice to meet you too."

Arthur raised a huge eyebrow, "Like his hatred wasn't justified after what you did."

Roderich smiled bitterly, "Yes, that's true, but I hated Gil back then." He looked towards Arthur, "You have more reason than I to hate Friedrich, though."

Arthur inclined his head, "He was doing what he thought right for his nation, too bad the Brat was ungrateful." Here his lips turned up into a cruel smile. "America was the one who insisted on the dissolution after all."

Roderich nodded, "Don't pretend that you were happy about it Arthur, it doesn't become you."

Arthur flinched and stared at the ground. "What else am I to do?"

Roderich smiled and nodded, "Nothing."

They looked at each other and laughed, "Fuck History," Arthur said, "Now is far more fun."

"Umm, excuse me," Lyle said, "Could you please explain what's going on?"

The two nations shared a glance and answered in tandem, "Look up you history, my friend."

With this enlightening quip, the two disappeared into the house to talk to Fritz.

All in all, Lyle thought, this was a good way to meet a nation. He was slowly growing used to having his house invaded by determined nations who wanted to help Gilbert. It was good to know that Gilbert had so many friends ready to help him. Though why they had never been mentioned before was anyone's guess. Gil was a private individual, after all, and never mentioned his involvement with political matters at all.

With the arrival of the Austrians, the work began to speed up. Lyle found himself at the very center of _treason_ in the making. The meetings became more and more regular, tending towards discussions of military action. The fact that there was always an empty chair at the head of the table, right next to Fritz was a constant reminder of Gilbert's absence.


	5. Chapter 4: Ésprit

Chapter 4:

Things seemed to have shifted in the months that followed. The blows grew harder, the time Gil spent outside the basement grew shorter. With every day, Gilbert's usefulness waned. He could no longer to housework for fear of breaking his wrists and ribs further, couldn't risk cooking (or baking which he used to enjoy) for fear of Ludwig burning him in the process. He was forbidden to do paperwork because he was no longer a nation- and one that had been dissolved in the worst of ways. The stain on his reputation made anything he worked on questionable. It seemed that Ludwig was setting the stage for Gilbert's inevitable final death.

The chains were a new addition, but the lack of thread and needle was a welcome subtraction, and Gilbert had gladly traded one for another. Now though, he saw the underlying meaning of the chains, and saw them as a greater torture than the sowing of his mouth had ever been. There was to be no escape this time, no final miraculous survival. The sowing of his mouth, although terrible and terrifying, had told Gilbert that he was to be kept silent for future torture and although there had been only torture in that future, there was still a chance to live there. He could scream now, and thrash, but he would never, if Ludwig had his way, escape the cellar alive.

His stomach ached from starvation and his screams caught in his throat, he had no energy to let them escape. He arms refused to move and any resistance he put up to Ludwig was token. The blows landed, the arms were twisted, the legs and ribs broken, his body burned and iced in turns. He was used in abominable ways. Gilbert was sure, now, that when Ludwig came to finally kill him, he'd accept death with open arms and barely a whimper.

Sometimes, Gilbert would find himself dreaming of better days, of the sun on his face, of the laughter that had filled his life. Then he'd wake up, face damp, to the dark basement that had haunted his various nightmares for so long. However long he'd been here, he was beginning to forget. To forget the world outside, the people he was living for. Then the door opened.

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Anna had long regretted taking the job as Ludwig's assistant. From day one, she had been bullied, belittled, glared at, and treated like a servant, then, she had met Gilbert at the grocery store, and had entertained a fantasy of him going out with her. He'd never seemed too interested, but she kept flirting hopefully with him.

Then, somehow, when she seemed be getting somewhere with knowing more about Gilbert, it turned out he knew her boss, and was terrified of him. She wondered what Ludwig had done to make Gilbert so afraid, and make him scream… all the same, she hadn't seen Gilbert since that day, and it had been over two-and-a-half months. She was worried, and she shared this worry with her friend, who was Ludwig's secretary. Her name was Wilhelmine. Wilhelmine seemed to think that Ludwig was using Gilbert as a punching bag, which, given Ludwig's temper and recent behaviour was more than likely. About a week after that conversation took place, Wilhelmine came to Anna, angry and upset. She had heard from her brother, Friedrich, that Ludwig was probably torturing Gilbert, and about the fact that Ludwig had previously sown Gilbert's mouth shut. She had also discovered that Gilbert was the friend of the family she had been searching for for a long time. This decided Anna, and she begged Wilhelmine to help her check on and/or rescue Gilbert. The women planned carefully and waited for an opportunity.

The opportunity arose a month or so later, and Anna made her way to Ludwig's house with papers for him to sign, as provided by Wilhelmine. She smiled as Ludwig let her in, and handed him the papers. He gestured her towards the Living room, and muttered an instruction to sit down and wait, which she followed.

Sitting patiently in the Living room, she noticed the door to the basement cracked open. Her eyes flicked towards it as they took the room in, she wondered why it had always been locked before. Then, from the basement, she heard movement. As if there was someone in pain down there. She opened the door and walked down the stairs, hoping beyond hope that the sounds did not belong to Gilbert. She opened the door.

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The door had always been shut, unless Ludwig was in the mood to play. The sudden light from the stairwell, and the distinctly female silhouette in the door told Gilbert that something was wrong. The gasp from said female silhouette confirmed his fears. He tried to speak, but his throat was dry, parched, and beyond speech. He opened his mouth to try nonetheless, splitting his dry lips open in the process.

His mouth seemed to defy him by falling shut with a pained gasp. He tried to pull himself up, but his body was unable to support his weight and he fell back, pain blinding him. He tried his best to focus on the woman by the door. She was familiar, he forced his brain to think, to remember her name. It came to him.

"Anna," He mouthed, unable to force his vocal chords to make any sort of sound. She stood frozen in the doorway, unheeding.

"Anna" This time he managed a hoarse whisper, one that echoed in the confined basement.

"Gil…bert?" Her voice was hesitant, as if she couldn't believe her eyes. Gilbert forced a smile onto his face, he knew he had failed when she asked, "How bad does it hurt."

Any lie would only hurt him. He couldn't lose anything by being honest. "Badly." He managed, forcing himself to focus on the first human he'd seen since the torture began, "I have no strength left…" He heard something move, "You shouldn't be here."

She smiled, "Ludwig will not return for at least an hour," she said, correctly interpreting his fears, "The papers he has to check are complex and detailed, he'll be awhile."

Gilbert's eyes sharpened on her face. "Why are you here?" He asked, voice shaking.

"To check on you dummkopf." She answered instantly, "We were worried."

"Who is this 'we'?" Gilbert's voice trembled as he tugged fruitlessly at his chains.

"My friend Wilhelmine and myself." Anna replied, moving closer to Gilbert and crouching beside him.

"I see." Gilbert replied, taking in the scent of her perfume and relaxing in the presence of another being after a long time.

"She said to give you a message, 'don't think you are alone. We all love you and we will come for you, just wait for us."

Gilbert's eyes widened, "Wilhelmine as in Fritz's older sister?" His eyes filled with tears that almost begged to be ignored.

Anna smiled, "You got that from one sentence? Wow, you must know each other well."

Gilbert nodded silently, "I won't last more than a few weeks at this rate." He said, voice rough from disuse and emotion, "I wish I could wait but…"

Anna looked at him carefully, "I can get you out." She said, "but how would that affect Fritz's plans?"

Gilbert stared at the wall, concentrating on feeling the people. "It'll survive now." He said clearly, "I need to get out or it won't matter anymore."

Anna nodded and extracted a hairpin from her hair (wow isn't that obvious) and began working on the locks of the chains. Left hand, right hand, left foot right foot, neck. Once he was free, Gilbert tried to stand once more. He staggered and fell onto the wall, grasping the hard brick for support. Anna put her arm around Gilbert, supporting him and helping him stand.

He was free.

Silently, they made their way out of the house and onto the street. Anna then placed a call.

"Hallo." She said into the phone, "Herr Arthur?"

Receiving a response she smiled, "Sorry Herr Roderich, I have Gilbert with me and he can barely walk, can you send a car?"

This time Gilbert could hear the response, "Immediately, Oi Arthur, get over here, Gil's hurt."

Anna smiled at Gilbert and they slipped round the corner to wait for the car.

The wait was agonizing and Gilbert couldn't help but fear that any moment, Ludwig would appear and kill Anna and take him prisoner again. The fact that he was still living on Ludwig's whims was terrifying, but Gilbert's senses told him that he was no longer subject to Ludwig. He felt the people giving him their loyalty, felt his allies reclaiming Sanssouci, felt his men training and ready for war. For the first time since 1900 he felt alive and in control. To hell with Ludwig and his betrayals, Gilbert had survived them all and he was free. Barely conscious, Gilbert saw the car arrive and Arthur emerge from it. A tired smile split his face, tearing his lips open.

"Artie…" He murmured, eyes fluttering shut.

"Gil." Arthur's voice broke, and Gilbert focused on his face. He was surprised to see it flooded with tears. He reached up to wipe them away but found his arm didn't have the strength to make it all the way there. Arthur caught the falling arm, cradling it near his heart.

"Gil," this time his voice was tender, "just stay awake a bit longer, we'll get you home and to your doctor. Then you can sleep, alright?"

Gilbert nodded, barely coherent, and watched the world float by through his window. He was safe now. Arthur would ensure he lived. Arthur had always ensured he lived.

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Fritz was panicking since the call, Gilbert had managed to walk to Lyle's home with a broken leg, four broken ribs, a twisted arm, very little blood and a mouth sown shut. That he couldn't walk seemed to imply that he was somehow worse off than he had been then. It was scaring Fritz and making him want to cry. Gil was the reason he was doing this, and he was worried that his beloved would die.

Lyle was patiently watching Fritz pace, he was also watching all the officers and nations do the same. Short tempered and nervous, they all avoided speech unless absolutely necessary. The car ride seemed to be taking an age and no one was sure of Gilbert's situation.

They sat stood and paced in that large palace room, each in their own heads thinking of the worst that could happen. They swore under their breaths and ignored one another. They ate, refused to eat, sat refused to sit. They all worried in their own ways. Nothing could have prepared them for this.

The patient wait came to an abrupt end quite literally when Austria stopped in the center of the room, his eyes fixed on the door. The other pacing individuals, so caught up in their ponderings, failed to notice the stalled nation and they walked into him. The sudden bang of colliding nations and humans far overshadowed the slamming shut of the open door.

Gilbert was being carried in. His sleepy eyes managed to fix themselves onto the scene of the scattered individuals lying haphazardly on the floor. He blinked. He shook his foggy head, and he blinked again. A smile stretched across his exhausted face, and he began to laugh.

"Kesesese…" He began to cough. Arthur reached forward, afraid Gilbert might cough up a lung.

Fritz slumped onto the floor, unable to stand anymore. The sight of Gilbert was too much for him to bear.

The nations pulled themselves off the floor, fixing their varied gazes on Gilbert.

* * *

I'm an evil Author to leave you with cliffy after making you wait so long! Still, this is a birthday present to my little Sister, the ARTist8121!

A/N Ésprit is my title 'cause 'hope' seems too done to Death. Cheers!

Ps. *looks around furtively* I disclaim (as much as I want England for myself, I don't own either Hetalia or the actual nations) *pouts*


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